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Sara Crewe: or, What happened at Miss Minchin's boarding school by Frances Hodgson Burnett
page 38 of 62 (61%)
"A fire that I only thought I saw surely wouldn't feel warm," she said.
"It feels real--real."

She went to it and knelt before it. She touched the chair, the table;
she lifted the cover of one of the dishes. There was something hot and
savory in it--something delicious. The tea-pot had tea in it, ready for
the boiling water from the little kettle; one plate had toast on it,
another, muffins.

"It is real," said Sara. "The fire is real enough to warm me; I can sit
in the chair; the things are real enough to eat."

It was like a fairy story come true--it was heavenly. She went to the
bed and touched the blankets and the wrap. They were real too. She
opened one book, and on the title-page was written in a strange hand,
"The little girl in the attic."

Suddenly--was it a strange thing for her to do?--Sara put her face down
on the queer, foreign looking quilted robe and burst into tears.

"I don't know who it is," she said, "but somebody cares about me a
little--somebody is my friend."

Somehow that thought warmed her more than the fire. She had never had
a friend since those happy, luxurious days when she had had everything;
and those days had seemed such a long way off--so far away as to be only
like dreams--during these last years at Miss Minchin's.

She really cried more at this strange thought of having a friend--even
though an unknown one--than she had cried over many of her worst
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